"You shall never behold me alive. There's something queer about that young man; but we'll never be able to find out what it is. Katy’s face was vapid and undistinguishable from a crowd, but pretty in an abstract sense, like the face of a baby doll. “Beats me. But there was something else; and in his befogged mental state the comparison eluded him. “Who wouldn’t be for you?” The train began to move. The young lady—if she had come in here at all—had vanished.
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